“Why then, did you come?”
“My friends and I do not want war with your people, nor do we seek to control the dragon, as the archmage does. He’s insane.”
“Hosvir says”—the shaman gestured at the lead warrior—“you were sent by one of the Firstborne to seek his kin.”
Delilah inclined her head toward Annah Brighteyes. “Terrakaptis. He seeks to wake his brothers and sisters. He says it’s time for them to return to the world.”
“The Firstborne are wise. They see much that is hidden from mortal eyes. When we received word of your flight, I sent my husband into the Citadel of Fire and Stone, despite the words of our king. He saw our lady’s carcass. She was dead long before you arrived.”
A murmur circulated through the assembled villagers. Annah Brighteyes raised her hands to silence them. “You will not be punished for the death of one who left this world before you came to us.”
Delilah pulled the broken wand from her pouch. “We found this wand in the citadel, a wizard’s implement. I do not know who it belonged to, but I suspect whoever owned it killed Pyraclannaseous.”
Shaman Annah Brighteyes closed her eyes and bowed her head. She chanted in the giants’ language, softly at first, and then in rising in volume and strength. The assembled giants bowed their heads and joined in, reciting in counterpoint to their shaman.
Katka coughed and shuffled her feet. Kali pulled her mate close. Delilah chewed her lip and adjusted the grip on her staff, assuming that since their weapons were not confiscated, the giants were either confident the four were no threat, or they were in no real danger of being executed.
After what seemed like the better part of an hour, the shaman finished her chant. Next, she turned her glowing eyes to Kali. “Speak, Drak, you of another clan.”
“Kale is my mate.” Her matter-of-fact tone brooked no other explanation.
Her terse reply satisfied the shaman. Annah Brighteyes bowed her head toward Kali. “Loyalty to one’s mate is admirable. And what of you”—she turned her gaze to Katka—“Human?”
Katka winced, fighting to keep her injured arm immobile, as she curtsied. The formality of it seemed pointless to Delilah. “I am Delilah’s friend. I wanted to help her and her brother.”
“Mates, siblings, friends. True to one another. When your Icebreaking archmage was here, there was no camaraderie among his companions, no bonds of friendship, just the stink of fear and gold.” The shaman stood and turned to address the assembled Iron Giants.
“What happened is clear, the Litany of Rannos Dragonsire guides us. Like her father before her, the death of Pyraclannaseous rent the earth. The death of a god cracked the world. The death of a god’s child cracked the mountain.”
One of the giants behind her shook his spear, pointing at the four. He shouted in anger and drew back, preparing to throw it. The shaman interposed herself between him and his target, responding to his threat in a low, even tone.
The warrior averted his eyes and backed away. Annah Brighteyes turned to face the three draks and Katka. “As a people, we are bonded to our Firstborne, none more closely than King Ragnok. Through him, Pyraclannaseous spoke during her long slumber. They call for you to be punished for his death. You”—she pointed at Kale—“tell me of your encounter with him. What was his appearance? How did he act?”
Kale stroked the bottom of his snout as he thought. “He was old, wizened even. He seemed nice at first, but then ordered his skeletons to kill us. We fought back only in self-defense.”
“Skeletons? Old? I believe I understand.” The Shaman turned to her people and spoke to them in their language. Delilah assumed she relayed Kale’s answer to them.
The giants conversed among themselves for several minutes. Several of the younger warriors threw down their spears. They spat upon them before turning and ambling away. Many of the older ones bowed to Annah Brighteyes before returning with their families to their huts. In the end, all that remained were the riders and Hosvir.
“A decision has been reached. It does not make all happy, but I feel it is just. With Ragnok dead, we will need to convene a moot to choose a new leader. Passions run high. You must leave. You are banished from the Valley of the Iron Giants until the gods themselves say you can return.”
Fine by me. I’m not ever coming back here. A weight lifted from Delilah’s shoulders. Katka’s sigh was audible.
Kale raised his hand and cleared his throat. “Can you explain to us what happened to your king? He seemed—”
“Unbalanced,” Delilah interjected as her brother searched for a diplomatic way to say crazy.
“His life was tied to our lady dragon’s, much like some of your wizards have a small animal assisting them. He was ancient, but her life-force granted him the benefit of longevity and the appearance of youth.” The shaman stood, worrying the bones around her neck. “Her death must have caused his age to catch up to him. It destroyed his mind, but I would never have thought he would be willing to defile the remains of his people.”
She waved her hand. “It is not your concern. We will deal with this our way. Please, come with me.”
The shaman gestured for them to follow her. Delilah helped her brother with the egg, and they trailed behind the shaman as she led them to a hut. It amused Delilah that the giant’s dwelling was as large as a well-appointed human’s home in Muncifer.
“You will sleep here tonight. I will see you are fed, and then Hosvir will lead you out of the valley in the morning.” She waited until they had entered her hut, and she secured the flap of tanned hide before turning to them and lowering her voice. “In time, they will recognize the debt we owe you. I will see that you are not forgotten when we set the course of our future.” She faced Katka. “Come, Human. I will mend your wounds.”
Delilah observed as the shaman performed the ritual that healed Katka’s broken arm. The words the giantess chanted were unlike any which the drak sorceress encountered in her arcane studies. Travelers to Drak-Anor told of mystics who wielded power that could affect living things in wondrous ways, but this was the first time Delilah had witnessed such abilities. Drak-Anor’s healers dealt in poultices, salves, and potions brewed by Pancras and other alchemists.
When Annah was finished, she turned and tended to her child as her husband tossed scraps of fur onto the floor for the draks and human to use as makeshift bedding.
Katka stared at her wounded arm, her jaw hanging slack. She moved it, raising and flexing it several times. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”
Delilah dodged a scrap of fur thrown by Annah’s husband and darted in front of the giantess. “The archduke wants peace. He values the friendship of the Iron Giants. I have an idea about how to deal with the archmage.”
“Deli?” Kale tugged at his sister’s arm. She faced her brother, who kept shaking his head and hissing.
“No, Kale. I’ve been thinking about this a long time. I know exactly what to do. I just need time.” She returned her attention to the shaman. “I’ll tell the archduke not to send emissaries until the archmage is dealt with. I’ll further instruct him to send them bearing a flag of truce and to await your warriors at the entrance to the valley; they’ll go no farther without your leave. We respect your custom to convene a moot and choose your new leader.”
Shaman Annah Brighteyes acknowledged Delilah with a grunt and pointed at the furs on the floor. “Sleep now. Go in peace tomorrow. Gaia will watch over you tonight.”
Chapter 2
The Golden Slayer stood on the poop deck alongside Captain Eingvar, regarding the Maiden’s wake. Their hair whipped in the cool breeze; Gisella had taken to tying hers back while topside. Dolphins arced through the blue-green water, following the ship as she sailed north along the coast. The broad-leafed trees of Raven’s Forest were visible on the horizon to their port side.
“You’ve adjusted to shipboard life much faster than your minotaur friend.” Captain Eingvar gripped the rail with both hands and leaned forward, glancing
downward to inspect the rudder.
“I used to fish the lakes of the Southern Watch with my father and sister.” Gisella missed those simpler days. She planned to return there after she completed her mission for the goddess Aurora.
“That’ll help, for certain. Ah, the irresponsible days of our youth.” He clicked his tongue. “Tell your fiendling to watch herself. If she leads the men on too much, they’ll get the wrong idea and react poorly if she isn’t receptive to those ideas. It’s a long voyage, and this ship’s too big to keep a watchful eye on every dark corner and hidey-hole.”
Qaliah made friends easily with the rowdy sailors of the Maiden, and the Golden Slayer understood exactly the sort of trouble to which the captain intimated. Not only arduous in nature, a sailor’s job spending months on end at sea enforced celibacy. Fraternization was discouraged among the crew while onboard, as most captains felt it led to a breakdown in crew discipline and undermined the chain of command. An overly flirtatious passenger would likely make things difficult.
“I’ll warn her. We don’t want any trouble, just a smooth ride to our destination.” The quartermaster informed them when they boarded that the Maiden of the High Seas sailed only as far as Port-of-Dogs. The overland journey from there to Vlorey was faster than sailing up Verdant Point and down to Vlorey.
“This is a safe route.” The captain gestured to the expanse of water to their starboard side. “No coves or islands for pirates. Not like sailing down to the Watches, or across to the Elven Empire. Some have called me coward for avoiding those waters or fool for passing up the gold it could bring.” He laughed and patted his belly, which strained at the shirt of tarnished metal scales he wore. “I like my safety and comfort more than the praise of danger-seeking fools.”
Gisella appreciated the sentiment. Often those who sought danger for gold and glory died young. She hoped to live long enough to raise a family and perhaps live near her sister so their children could grow up together. It was a dream she did not often allow her thoughts to indulge in, not when so much work remained.
She clapped the captain on the shoulder. “I’ll go check on Pancras and make sure Qaliah is staying out of trouble.” She left Captain Eingvar to run his ship and descended the stairs to the main deck. Sailors scuttled up the riggings like spiders on a web. Qaliah’s laughter rang out like a clarion above barked orders and bawdy sea shanties. Crossing from one end of the ship to the other, the fiendling swung through the rigging.
Each of them was required to work aboard the ship while they traveled. Qaliah, obviously, found her calling as a rigger. Gisella, the most experienced traveler of the three, found helping the sailing master as fulfilling a job as one she didn’t want could be. Pancras, however, had no time to find work because he’d been ill since the ship left the harbor.
The Maiden’s spacious top decks belied a labyrinthine interior. Below deck, lanterns provided sputtering light and dancing shadows that swayed with the bobbing of the ship. Save for the senior officers, the crew slept in hammocks stacked three high, filling one of the holds with snoring, swinging sailors. Those who worked below decks, spoke in hushed whispers, mindful of those whose duties required them to sleep during the day. Gisella made her way to the cabin she, Qaliah, and Pancras shared. Previously, it had been quarters shared by the bo’sun and his two mates. She didn’t ask Qaliah what she traded for it.
Pancras lay in his hammock, one hand splayed across his face as he groaned with every heave of the ship. His normally shiny, soft fur appeared dry, dull, and brittle, and the sickly sweet scent of vomit permeated the air in the cabin. Gisella noted the partially full bucket that was the odor’s source on the floor alongside Pancras’s hammock.
She slid the bucket away from him with her foot and then pulled on his arm. “Up you get!”
“Go away.”
Gisella gritted her teeth and pulled, yanking the minotaur from his hammock. He crashed onto the floor. The hammock swung away from him and back, entangling his horns and pulling him backward as the ship crashed into an oncoming wave.
“You’re doing yourself no favors by staying down here. It stinks, you stink, and you’re going to starve if you can’t keep food down.” The Golden Slayer untangled the hammock from the minotaur’s horns and helped him to his feet. Upon examining his glazed, red-rimmed eyes, she determined he suffered from lack of sleep in addition to seasickness.
Pancras mumbled and stifled a belch. He closed his eyes and clutched his stomach as he braced himself against the wall. “Killing me now would be a kindness.”
“And face the Lich Queen on my own? No, thank you!” She grimaced as she picked up the half-full bucket and carried it out, calling over her shoulder, “Change your robes and meet me by the main mast. Bring your gear. You need to train with that new weapon.”
Pancras fumbled for the maul he acquired in Curton and now used as his arcane focus and symbol of his new status as a bonelord. Forged from a type of red steel with which Gisella was unfamiliar and too large for her personal taste, it fit the minotaur well. The spike protruding from the back of its head left no doubt the weapon was designed for battle, rather than ceremony.
“Now!”
Gisella didn’t bother to confirm whether he followed her. She climbed to the main deck, dumped the bucket’s contents over the side, and tossed it to a swabbie to clean and return to storage. By the time she finished, Pancras emerged topside, clinging to one of the ropes by the main mast.
For as long as she had known him, Pancras had never been as burly or as muscular as she observed in others of his kind, but as the wind pressed the minotaur’s robes against his body, she noted he now appeared almost gaunt. She shook her head. Never thought I’d play nursemaid to a seasick minotaur.
***
The next morning, after the four broke their fast with Annah Brighteyes, her husband, and her as-yet-unnamed child, Hosvir led the draks and Katka out of the giants’ village. Kale enlisted his sister’s help to carry the dragon egg. In addition to wondering how the giants knew to intercept them, he marveled that they allowed him to take the egg with no further arguments or discussion.
When Hosvir left them at the edge of the valley, they gaped as he and his towering mount disappeared into the forest.
After he vanished from sight, Katka threw up her hands. “They captured us just to let us go. What was the point? And how did they know what happened in the citadel anyway?”
“I’m not sure they did.” Kali helped her mate and his sister secure the egg on the ground so they could rest. “I think they suspected something happened and sent a group to wait for us on the road in case we made a run for it.”
“A good guess on their part, if that’s what happened.” Delilah sat on a rock and rubbed her neck.
Kale took a seat near Kali and entwined his tail with hers as they leaned on each other. “I don’t care why they knew or what. I’m just glad they decided to let us go. How are we going to get this egg to Terrakaptis? He’s all the way in Drak-Anor. I don’t think carrying this thing for months is a good idea.”
He glanced at his sister. She could send a message to him; maybe he’ll come pick it up.
Delilah suggested that very thing. “Of course, folks in Muncifer will have a fit if a dragon shows up asking for us.”
“You could tell him to meet you outside the city at a certain time.” The human arched her back before circling the egg and examining it.
“If do that, I’m sure the archmage will send me in the other direction on some pointless errand. I don’t dare tell him about the egg.” Delilah picked at the skull atop her staff.
“What are you going to tell him?” Kale wasn’t concerned about short-term security for the egg. The home he and Kali shared in Muncifer featured a passageway connected to a forgotten cavern. It was already fortified with locks and traps and would be perfectly suited to hiding a dragon egg.
Delilah grunted and stood. She paced as she thought and placed her hand on the egg. “No idea. Not
the truth, not willingly, anyway.”
It occurred to Kale there might be another option. “We don’t have to go back. There must be a village or someplace nearby where we could get a cart to help carry the egg.”
Katka’s eyes widened. “I’m not abandoning my family.”
Shaking her head, the drak sorceress clicked her teeth. “No, we’re not running. The archduke put a lot of trust in me. Besides, the archmage will just send the slayers after me if I don’t go back. If you and Kali want to head back to Drak-Anor, I won’t stop you, but I have to end this.”
Kali squeezed Kale’s arm. Searching his mate’s eyes, Kale realized she would accede, no matter what he decided. “We’re not going to leave you, Deli. I was just thinking out loud.”
With their course decided, the four continued their trek out of the Iron Gate Mountains toward Muncifer. The return journey would take longer since they turned their mounts loose when the mountain paths became too treacherous for them. Kale hoped that Katka’s enchantment allowed the lizards to find their way to her family’s farm.
The road out of the mountains was not well traveled. Apart from the giants, Muncifer traded little with what few communities existed in the Western Wastes on the other side of the mountain pass. Ill-suited to caravans, the dirt road in that portion of the mountains doubled back, twisted, and often washed out during the rainy season, unlike the predominantly stone road that led to Ironkrag in the Dragon Spine Mountains near Drak-Anor.
The four companions discussed little of importance for much of the journey, spending most of the time swapping jokes and telling stories of the fun and follies of their childhoods. Neither Kali nor Katka had heard most of Kale and Delilah’s stories of survival, having been cast out of their clan as soon as the elders deemed they were old enough to make it on their own.
Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3) Page 2
